The Worst Day if his Life
by Bungaroon
Summary: Saturday, October 31, 1981. It was a day that changed many, many lives. Most changed for the better, freed from Lord Voldemort's reign, but for all of those involved in the murder of James and Lily Potter, their lives were permanently altered for the worse. One young man suffered more than most, however, and after this day in history, his life would never be the same.


AN: Hi, so I'm still working on a fic that I mentioned a while ago, but since it's still not done, despite my best efforts, this shall be uploaded in its place. It is a one-shot that i wrote when I was literally 12, so don't be too mean... It was the first fic i EVER wrote, and with some very heavy editing, I managed to make it some what presentable. I meant to have the other fic done for Jilytober but... I suck, and that didn't work out, so I'm uploading this in its place.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I do not own his parents, I do not own Sirius Black, but I do own... teeth. Sorry, that was supposed to be something witty, but i couldn't think of anything, so...

* * *

"Shit. Shit! Shit shit shit shittity shit! SHIT!" The young man ran up to the front stoop of the destroyed house muttering angrily to himself (The anger was the only thing preventing him from collapsing and sobbing in despair).

He had known something like this could happen but he had never really come to terms with it. The thought of never seeing the Potters again was impossible for him to wrap his head around.

He braced himself and walked through the front doorway. This was quite easy, as it no longer contained a door. He didn't see any bodies or hear anything, though perhaps that was a good sign. But then again, perhaps not. He shouldn't give up hope, though. After all, maybe they had managed to escape, or they could be hiding in the linen closet. Or maybe they were just gone; dead. Either way, that last one was a terrible prospect and the man forced himself to stay focused.

He had almost made it to the staircase when he saw it, the image that made his entire being throb in anger and such sadness that felt as though it could never leave: the body of the man he had considered his brother. He forced himself to look down again, and the lifeless eyes of James Potter met his gaze. The man choked out a sob; never again would the Marauders be whole. He wanted to sit down and stay there with James. He wanted to say goodbye, to tell him how much he meant to him even if he'll never hear it. But no, he had to go upstairs and continue assessing the damage before he grieved.

He walked up the stairs, his heart heavy, and as he walked into the nursery (the first room after the stairs) he felt as though his heart may stop all together. There, on the floor, was that unmistakable mane of red hair that belonged to Lily Potter. He couldn't see her face, but perhaps that was for the best. He choked a bit as he stepped over her body and made his way to the crib on the other side of the room. He nearly cried out in relief when he saw baby Harry fussing about in his crib. He reached down and picked the distressed baby up, cradling him and telling him that everything would be all right, not knowing if he was assuring Harry or himself.

A few minutes later, an extremely large man called Hagrid joined the younger man, in both grieving and location, after explaining how Dumbledore had sent him as soon as he'd gotten word. And through great heaving sobs he told the man of how he must take the (far too) young orphan to live with his Aunt and Uncle on Dumbledore's orders. The man reluctantly gave up his Godson and his Motorcycle to the much larger man because he had another job. He might not be able to get revenge on Voldemort, their actual killer, but he knew somebody else who could suffice: Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew. Never had his Animagus form made so much sense, for he was the rat responsible for the worst day of this young man's life.

After Hagrid's depart, the man no longer had reason to hold himself together. He screamed in rage and anguish and hurled his fist against one of the few remaining walls of the house. He hardly felt a thing but stopped himself out of respect for the old house. Besides, he had a new task.

* * *

The aforementioned man paced his cell in Azkaban, replaying the previous events in his head over and over again. He saw flashes of his confrontation of Peter Pettigrew and the explosion and the Dementors dragging him away. He had thought that seeing the rat that stole his family away from him die would bring satisfaction, but all he felt was emptiness. And at that moment, the man allowed himself to feel everything that he had been trying to repress. He let it flow over him, suffocate him in a bout of his own misery. He lost everything that day. But something that he was positive of was that some of him died sometime that night. Maybe it had been back at Godrics Hollow, or maybe when he realized that one of his own brothers truly had betrayed all of them. Or maybe when he had seen his new 'home', but there was one thing that Sirius Black knew for certain and that was that nothing would ever be the same.

* * *

AN: As I said earlier, I wrote this when I was 12. A lot has changed since then. When I was 12, I watched Once Upon a Time and actually thought it was a good show. When I was 12, I exclusively wore black and listened to My Chemical Romance and actually thought that those were good life decisions. But, you know, maybe you should be harsh, seeing as that would constitute a review, of which I've never had. I will take literally anything at this point, just so long as it's feedback. By the way, don't you just love that Sirius Black, knowing that his family had just died, would say _shittity_? I do. That's why I left it in there.


End file.
